


Tidal Waves

by acidicgoth



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-25
Updated: 2013-03-25
Packaged: 2017-12-06 11:49:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/735302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acidicgoth/pseuds/acidicgoth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s the domino effect, one thing leads to another and suddenly he’s everywhere. Every domino falling, echoing with conversations we once had, apologizes, the choices and the ends.  When he wakes, I’ll be gone, it’s routine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tidal Waves

My thoughts are moving too fast for my hands to catch up. I’m not thinking into coherent sentences anymore. Jumbles of words, pens ripping through the paper, keyboards shattering under the pressure, I’m a slave for the words. The ghosts are catching up. Everything I’ve tried to block out is tearing down the wall I concealed myself in. 

It has a domino effect, one thing leads to another and suddenly he’s everywhere. Every domino falling, echoing with conversations we once had, apologizes, the choices and the ends. 

Bulldozers smashing through my carefully planned architecture, miniature versions of myself; lay on the floor holding signs and protesting ‘do not knock down this wall’, there chants become muddled into keywords, names I haven’t spoken aloud since I left. 

The first cracks appear and the names get louder, the visions get clear and this is exactly what you don’t want at a time like this because then the panic sets in. And when you panic, you don’t breathe, when you don’t breathe, you panic more. It’s a vicious circle. My lungs are straining, threatening to burst, I’m pretty sure I’m drowning, the water clogs them up, it overflows and then I’m pacing around the room, the flood gates can’t withhold anymore and it seeps through the eyes, miniature versions of myself stop chanting, cardboard signs float to the top.

And then something happens I thought would never happen again, I breathe. Tidal waves of air rush into my lungs, the heart starts to pound causing earthquakes, my body’s a natural disaster and my wall can’t hold up through it. It crashing down in piles of rubble, bringing me down with it, and I lay looking at the ceiling, mourning the deaths of the protesters, the storm is over but the worst isn’t, because after ever storm, thousands of people have to clean up the mess.

I have cracked like the pavement on the high street, I’m bad luck, people step over me but some don’t make it on time, they step a second too late and skip to avoid me, kick me in the ribs, over and over again. 

Louis. Louis. Louis. I roll his name around in my mouth, let my tongue wrap around the syllables, I try to swallow it down but I choke, this name doesn’t mean a thing to me anymore, I’m a compulsive liar, especially to myself, that’s my fatal flaw. 

The name gives me feelings I dread to feel, a hand is ripping its way out of my heart like a zombie climbing out of its grave, it holds no grace as it eats the brains of its victims and that’s why my head feels like it’s about to explode, he’s killing me, even when he isn’t here.

I’m turning into a zombie slowly, dragging my feet behind me as I move from place A to B looking for my next victim, whether a pretty petite girl lying in my bed or someone who had the same crinkle next to their eye when they laugh. 

I blink away the remaining tear when I realise its dark outside. I don’t know what happened to my day, nor do I know what happened to the girl, there was a door slamming a couple of hours ago and she spoke some harsh words seconds prior, I think she wanted a reaction from me, but I am a broken man and I was far too busy thinking of him.  
It was her fault anyway, I don’t how but it was, she let herself by my victim, anyone smarter would of seen I was looking for one thing and one thing only, sweat inbetween the bed sheets. She just wanted a piece of me, they all do these days. 

I know what I need to do.

 

My ideas are farfetched, ‘My car broke down outside your house, can I use your phone?’ I am destined for terrible things and he knows it. I recite the line over and over in my head as I pull up to his house. 

I am the victim and he is the villain. The door opens and I’m at his demand, his shoulders rise in an almost sigh, words aren’t needed, he knows why I’m here, he felt it too, he felt the earthquake and the flood, he heard my thunder a mile away. It doesn’t take a lot for us to be triggered.

I walk through the door and I take a look around, nothing has changed since last time I was here, apart from us. I take a look at him; he looks the same as when I last saw him, that’s how I know he’s been crying. He needs me just as much as I need him and we can call it off as many times as we want, but it doesn’t work like that. It works in a pattern; break, fuck, run, break, fuck, run. We work on auto.

My mind spins when I concentrate on his lips, his taste, the ache and the need, my blood bubbles and my heart races to a dangerous speed so I think about the way my skin burns were ever he touches until I almost see the smoke were we are about to catch fire, were a bad match. We rush through it, were wasting no time, why prolong the pain? 

My mouth sucks onto his pulse, marking him, battle wounds in a war that’ll last years, we won’t give up till we surrender, were stubborn. It throbs on my tongue, and I am reminded he is alive, I’m still here and so is he. You can destroy and break and snap every bone and heart in our bodies, but if we have a pulse then it’s all still real, that makes me more determined, I’ll be the last man standing. I’ll wear him down.

My hands skim his body; I wonder if he can smell the girl from last night, I press harder against him, the idea of him being jealous turns me on ever more. I feed off his pain.  
It’s mumbled words and shaking hands after that, panting into each other’s mouths and I swear I’ll never do this again. It doesn’t take long for sleep to catch up with him. Every time, he gets further away. Embarrassed to share the same bed as me, I would be too. I wouldn’t know he’s there if it wasn’t for the light breathing at the other side of the bed, a constant reminder of what I had, have, want and need.

When he wakes, I’ll be gone, it’s routine. Next time I see him we’ll be older and he’ll be on my doorstep, and repeat.  
And that’s okay.


End file.
